Letting Go
by Lil black dog
Summary: Letting go of the past (or present) can be difficult for some; next to impossible for others...just ask Kevin Riley.


**A/N: **This is an immediate follow-on to the TOS episode Conscience of the King, and offers an explanation as to why we never saw Kevin Riley after that. This also ties into The Naked Time, as well as my story 'Sequelae,' so a working knowledge of those two things would be helpful as well, but not necessary.

Beta: T'Paya and NCM did a brain check on this for me. No technical beta, so all mistakes are mine.

**Letting Go**

He fled the scene, knowing that the captain had ordered him to return to sickbay, but certain he couldn't comply with that order. That was where all the pain, buried deeply and nearly forgotten, had come crashing back. Tears blurred his vision. It had been many years since this particular set of emotions had been so close to the surface; now they threatened to overwhelm him; to destroy that peace and acceptance that had been so hard won.

He couldn't remember anything about how he'd gotten here, couldn't see the curious stares of those he's surely passed along the way, but thankfully, the door to his cabin beckoned. He slipped inside, collapsing backward against the closed door, his fingers brushing the cool metal surface.

"Lights, thirty percent," he called into the darkness, his tidy quarters appearing instantly out of the gloom. He headed for his dresser, rummaging around in the back of the top drawer, his hand closing around a small, slim object. Reverently, he drew it from its hiding place before disappearing into the brightly-lit corridor once again.

oooOOOooo

He led the broken, sobbing woman away from the body stretched out before them on the stage, steered her away from the prying eyes of the crew who had assembled to watch the traveling troupe of actors perform _Hamlet_. Handing her off to one of the security guards, he made for the nearest comm unit. "Kirk to sickbay."

"_Sickbay, McCoy here."_

"Bones, I need you to report to the ship's theater with a medical team." He paused slightly. "Karidian is dead at the hands of his daughter." He lowered his voice. "She's in a bad way, Bones."

"_So he_ was_ Kodos."_

A moment of silence ensued. "Yes."

"_I'll be right there."_

"How's Riley?" the captain added.

"_Riley? How should I know? I told you he left here twenty minutes ago."_

"I found him here, phaser in hand, planning to kill Karidian himself. I disarmed him and told him to report back to sickbay."

"_Well, he never made it."_

"I see," Kirk answered woodenly. "Get down here as soon as you can."

"_What about Riley? We need to find him, and fast. God only knows what he's capable of, given his current state of mind."_

"I don't think that's a concern, Bones – not anymore, at least. Besides, I have a hunch I know where he is."

"_Okay, Jim. Just don't do anything foolish. On my way. McCoy out."_

Kirk punched the wall-mounted button, severing the connection from his end. One of the security guards was instantly at his elbow. "Sir, do you want me to contact Commander Giotto? Have a security team resume the search for the lieutenant?"

"No. I can handle it." No need to drag more people into this than were absolutely necessary. He'd cross that bridge if and when he came to it. "Just keep things calm here until McCoy arrives." Threading his way through the numerous obstacles backstage, Kirk made his way to the door, and the crowded corridor beyond.

oooOOOooo

As the doors whooshed closed behind him, he inhaled deeply, the rich, earthy scents incongruous with the typical scrubbed, slightly stale air of a starship. Finding himself totally alone, he drifted deeper into the space, the ground becoming spongy beneath his feet, the lighting subdued as "dusk" approached. His eyes locking onto a tall oak tree he settled himself at its base, leaning his back against the sturdy trunk, examining the item clutched tightly in his fist with renewed fervor.

The people smiling back at him were strangers; people he hadn't seen in twenty years and barely remembered. His throat closed. Sobs wracked his form, a numbness stealing over his body, serving to block out the all-consuming pain. Mercifully, his brain seemed to disconnect, his thoughts dissolving into nothingness, as did his surroundings.

oooOOOooo

Kirk paused outside the doors to the arboretum. He spoke into the comm unit located on the wall beside them. "Computer, how many personnel are currently inside?"

"_One."_

"Once I enter, the doors are to be locked, opened only by my voice print, that of Mister Spock or Doctor McCoy."

"_Acknowledged,"_ came the tinny response.

He drew a fortifying breath and stepped inside, allowing a few moments for his eyes to adjust to the dim space. The perfume of flowers filled his nostrils, as did the pungent tang of loamy soil.

His footsteps reverberated dully on the metal decking as he made his way to the rear of the room, the hard surface eventually giving way to soft grass.

Peering farther into the space, he detected a shape crumpled on the ground beneath a tree. A few steps brought him beside the distraught young man. Dropping to his knees, his hand sought a shaking shoulder.

"Riley."

No response.

"Kevin," he said again, more insistently, gently raising the lieutenant to a seated position.

Wide brown eyes, rimmed in red, sought his. "It _was _him, wasn't it, Jimmy?" Riley asked, forgetting himself momentarily, addressing his captain the way he'd done as a child on Tarsus IV.

"Yes."

"A part of me always knew he wasn't really dead," Riley whispered, as if from afar. "Is he under arrest? Will he finally be made to answer for the crimes he committed?"

Kirk swallowed; looked away briefly before meeting the open, vulnerable stare. "He's dead."

Riley's eyes grew round. "Dead?" he echoed. "How? Did he kill himself? Was he killed by security trying to escape?"

"He was shot by his daughter accidentally. She'd intended to shoot me, but he stepped in front of me, sacrificing his life for mine," Kirk whispered incredulously, as if he'd only just come to this realization himself.

"Hah," Riley scoffed. "He already killed seven of us nine remaining eyewitnesses—"

"No," Kirk interrupted. "Lenore did. She confessed everything. At the end, I got the impression that he was truly remorseful for what he'd done; that his decision had dogged him relentlessly for the last twenty years. That he was finally willing to accept responsibility for the atrocities he committed."

"I find that hard to believe. If he was truly sorry he could have owned up to what he did; turned himself in years ago, but he didn't. He faked his own death; lived for all those years on borrowed time; had a family; got to see his daughter grow and change every day. That didn't happen for me. I never got those twenty years with my family. His remorse is too little, too late for my parents and sister," Riley said, holding out the object in his hand, a single tear trickling down his cheek.

Kirk looked at the small rectangle, a holo of two smiling parents, a red-headed girl of about seven, and an infant nestled securely in its mother's arms.

"You know, I don't really remember them – Siobhan's laugh, my mother's voice, or the feel of my father's calloused hand holding mine. I look at this holo, taken when I was just a baby and given to me when I was ten by my grandmother, and feel as if I'm gazing at the faces of strangers." He paused, fighting back tears. "That's what he took from me." His voice shook with rage.

Kirk swallowed grimly, the faces of his aunt and cousin whom he'd lost to Kodos' decree, as well as that of a four-year-old who'd idolized him, trusted him and relied on him during those dark days of waiting for rescue, materializing before him.

As he'd done numerous times during that surreal month when they were children, Kirk tugged the young man to him, pressing Riley's head to his chest. "I know. He took someone from all of us." Kirk's voice quavered as well as the captain was haunted by his own memories of the past.

Riley settled against his childhood friend, breathing heavily, fighting to banish the horrific images brought forth this day.

"But don't you see?" Kirk continued. "Harboring this hate, this rage, won't bring back the dead. We can't change what happened, no matter how much we'd like to. If we allow ourselves to wallow in it, allow it to control us and dictate how we conduct our lives, then Kodos has won. We have closure now. It's finally over. The dead can finally be at peace."

The room fell silent, save for the lieutenant's hitched breathing, as each man disappeared into his own private hell. At last, Riley pulled himself free of his captain's embrace, wiped a hand across his face; cleared his throat. "How did you know where to find me?" he asked uncertainly.

"It was only a hunch, but this is the only place on the ship that even remotely resembles how and where we lived when hiding out on Tarsus IV. I figured if the memories had come flooding back, if you were thinking about your family, you'd try to go to the last place you saw them."

Riley smiled weakly. "When we were kids, you always seemed to know what I was thinking; to be able to figure out what it was I wanted even before I knew myself." He paused. "I guess that's why I looked up to you then. Still do now."

Kirk acknowledged the compliment with a slight dip of the head; climbed to his feet, stretching out a hand to the young man still on his knees. "C'mon, Lieutenant, there's still work to be done," Kirk said, "And we certainly can't accomplish it sitting here."

"Agreed," Riley conceded, reaching for the outstretched hand; allowing himself to be hoisted to his feet. "Where to, Captain?" he asked.

"First stop, sickbay," Kirk informed him, striding for the doors to the arboretum. "I want McCoy to check you over."

"Aye, sir," the lieutenant responded, falling into step beside his commanding officer.

oooOOOooo

He and Spock had just finished their meals; were in the process of depositing their trays in the waste receptacle when the ship-wide intercom whistled.

"_McCoy to Captain."_

Kirk crossed to the wall, depressing a switch. Spock took up station a step behind his captain's right shoulder. "Kirk here. Go ahead, Bones."

"_I have that report you asked me for, Jim. I'd like for you to meet me in my office so we can discuss it."_

The captain looked to his first officer, who lifted a questioning eyebrow. Kirk shook his head slightly. "All right, Bones, I'll be there in a few minutes."

"_Out," _McCoy announced, closing the connection on his end.

Kirk snapped off the comm unit, focusing his attention on Spock. "You heard McCoy. I'll be up to the bridge as soon as I can. In the meantime, you have the con Mister Spock."

Kirk stepped through the doors to McCoy's office a few minutes later to find the doctor seated behind his desk, two half-full glasses and a PADD perched atop it.

He waved Kirk into a chair. "Have a seat Jim." McCoy reached for the drink before him, sipping slowly as the captain settled into the chair opposite his.

"Well, what's the prognosis, Doctor?" Kirk began without preamble, his own glass remaining untouched.

"Certainly not cut and dry." McCoy puffed out his cheeks. "There's some good news and some bad."

"C'mon, Bones, let's have it," the captain snapped, his impatience getting the better of him.

"As we suspected, recent events have triggered flashbacks for Riley to memories and events conquered by intense treatment long ago." The corner of Kirk's mouth twitched, but he remained silent, his gaze focused squarely on the doctor. "It's nothing another round of therapy can't cure, but he'll need time away to get the proper treatment."

"How long?" Kirk asked, finally reaching for his own glass and taking a small mouthful of the amber liquid.

"A month or so should do it. I spoke with Starfleet Medical and they were confident he can overcome this without it negatively impacting his career."

Kirk sighed audibly, the tension leaving his body in a decisive whoosh.

"You knew him before, on Tarsus," McCoy prodded, not altogether certain, but convinced he was on the right track. "That's why this is so important to you; so difficult for you."

Kirk drained his drink, dropping his gaze, rolling the empty glass between his fingers. "He was just a kid, Bones – just four. No kid should ever have to see what he saw, what we all saw. Should have had to live the way we did until the rescue ships arrived."

"Which brings me to my next question – how are _you_ holding up?"

Kirk's head snapped up at that, instantly on red alert. "I'm fine. Let it go, Bones." The captain's voice was low, menacing.

McCoy gave as good as he got. "Don't gimme that, Jim – it's my job to ask the tough questions, and you know it. The health of this crew – her captain included – is my affair." His voice took on a hard edge. "If anything could compromise it, or him, then it's my job to question that, and ensure that they – and he – can function without putting anyone at risk. And right now, I'm not so sure that's the case."

"All right, Doctor – make your point." Kirk's palms were splayed on the desk before him. He had half-risen from his seat, pinning his CMO with an accusatory stare.

McCoy refused to be intimidated. "You went through the same things Riley did; saw the same things he saw; only you were older; able to understand and process what was happening. In many ways, that made it a damn sight worse for you."

"Being older also gave me the tools I needed to deal with it more effectively," Kirk countered.

McCoy leaned back in his chair, regarding his friend evenly. "You can't expect me to believe that, Jim. I accessed your medical records. You underwent some extensive counseling, too."

Kirk got to his feet, began pacing the room. "That's all in the past, Bones. I made my peace with what happened a long time ago, and moved on. You know as well as I do that if there were any residual psychological effects, _that_ would have precluded me from getting command of this vessel," he stated flatly, coming to a stop before the desk.

"Agreed, but you can't tell me that the events of the last twenty-four hours have had no effect on you whatsoever. I think we both know that's a load of bull. Hell, even Spock noticed the toll it was taking on you."

Kirk's face darkened at that, clearly on the defensive now, and McCoy realized he would have to tread lightly. His gaze softened, matching his tone. "Relax, Jim – we're not out to get you. We just wanna make sure that you're operating on all thrusters."

"Well, you can stop worrying, Bones." Kirk settled into the chair once again. "I won't deny that what I went through on Tarsus helped shape the man I became, helped to formulate the code of ethics by which I live my life, and cemented my desire to join the service, but the negative impacts of my time there were resolved within a few months. I simply refused to allow Kodos to have that much control over my life.

"And you know, once I knew for sure it was him, and now that I know he's really dead, it's brought me a kind of peace." Kirk's look shifted, becoming almost wistful. "Now I know the dead can rest easier, and those of us who managed to survive can stop looking over our shoulders. It's over."

"Glad to hear it, Jim, but you know that won't be enough for my medical log – I'll need to be able to enter something more substantial than just your word."

Kirk eyed the doctor dubiously. "All right, Bones, I see where this is heading." He climbed decisively to his feet. "Let's get this over with."

oooOOOooo

The buzzer to his cabin sounded. A quick glance at his chronometer told him it wasn't Spock – the Vulcan wasn't due for their evening chess game for another half an hour. He had a feeling he knew who it was. "Come," he called, composing his face into a neutral mask and depressing a switch.

The door slid sideways to reveal Riley in the corridor, wearing an anxious look.

"Lieutenant," Kirk said, his intuition validated. He greeted the young man with a warm smile. "Come in."

Riley took a few tentative steps into his captain's quarters, the door whispering closed behind him.

"Please, have a seat," Kirk said, gesturing to the chair in front of his desk and dropping into his own. "What's on your mind?" he prodded, meeting the young man's eyes.

The junior officer seated himself. "I came to ask a favor, sir," came the soft, hesitant reply.

"Name it. If it's within my power, I'll do all I can to help."

Riley took a deep breath, lowering his gaze to his hands which were twisting and writhing like a pair of Aldebaran eels in his lap. "I don't want you to take this the wrong way, sir, but I'd like to be transferred off the _Enterprise._"

Kirk wasn't sure _what_ he had expected, but it certainly wasn't this. "But why? No one holds this against you, least of all me. Doctor McCoy assured me that with a little time away and therapy, you'll be able to resume your duties as if nothing had happened."

"It's not that, Captain." Riley paused, licking his lips. "It's just that, from now on, the _Enterprise_ will always remind me of what happened on Tarsus IV; will always be linked to it and Kodos in my mind."

"You don't know that for sure. Let's wait and see what the medical professionals say, all right?"

Riley remained silent.

"You're a fine young officer." Kirk paused briefly before continuing. "I asked that you never be told this, but when I took command of this vessel I requested you by name to serve as a member of my crew."

A jolt passed through Riley and he looked up, an embarrassed smile creasing his lips. "I _had_ wondered, but didn't know for sure." A beat. "Thank you, sir."

"It wasn't charity, Mister," Kirk growled. "Your grades were good – you graduated in the top ten percent of your class – your fitness reports from your previous commanding officers were glowing, and you were promoted ahead of the curve twice – all things I looked for when assembling my core crew. You earned it, Lieutenant. And I still stand by that decision."

"And I appreciate that, Captain – really I do – but I just don't see me being able to return here."

Kirk regarded the young officer evenly, folding his hands on the desk before him. "You know, this sounds a lot like the request you made several months ago, after the Psi 2000 virus incident. I denied it then. Why shouldn't I do so again?"

Riley shifted uncomfortably. That memory was still raw, extremely painful. He'd almost single-handedly brought about the destruction of the ship. Yet he'd been under the influence of the virus, as had a significant number of the crew, so Kirk hadn't seen fit to hold him accountable for his actions. "My request then was motivated by guilt, but talking to you afterward made me realize it wasn't my fault." He grinned half-heartedly at Kirk. "I still owe you a huge debt of gratitude for denying that request, sir, but this case is different."

"How so?"

"This time it's not guilt, but my mental well-being at stake."

"You can't know that for sure. With time and therapy—"

"Possibly, sir, but deep down I know – I feel it in my bones – that I won't be able to be on board without thinking about Kodos and what he did to my family." Riley looked away suddenly, struggling to control the quivering of his chin. "I can't take the chance that a lapse in concentration, no matter how slight, could have a negative impact on this ship or any member of her crew. This time the guilt would be real, and warranted, and I can't go through that again."

"I understand completely, but I don't want you to make a rash decision. We have a month to see what Medical finds, and what they ultimately recommend. If, at the end of that time, you still want a transfer, I'll grant it, no questions asked, agreed?"

Riley met his eyes squarely. "Thank you, sir. And now, I should be going." He climbed hurriedly to his feet.

Kirk rose as well, extending a hand to the young man and grasping the lieutenant's upper arm with the other. "Kevin, take care of yourself," he said sincerely.

Riley shook it firmly. "I will, Jimmy, I will."

oooOOOooo

He ground his fists into his eyes, but it did nothing to dispel the tension, the fatigue that had settled there. When they were done here, a trip to sickbay would be his next stop. He didn't think he had anything back in his quarters that would be strong enough to quell the monster headache that was brewing.

Glancing down once more at the table before him, he drew one of the numerous PADDs closer, forcing his eyes to focus on what was displayed there. They'd be at Starbase Nineteen in less than two days, and damn well needed to have all of this sorted out before then.

Spock's voice pulled him back to the moment. "Captain, perusing the list of transfers I see that ten of our current complement are scheduled to depart once we dock, an additional fifteen will be moving on to their next assignments following the completion of their leave, and one officer who has been on medical leave will not be returning – Lieutenant Kevin Riley." Spock cocked an eyebrow at him; waited patiently for an answer to the unvoiced question.

For the past four weeks, both Spock and Bones had been tiptoeing around the issue of Kodos and Tarsus IV. Once the doctor's psych scans had shown no changes in his mental stability brought about by recent events, both men had backed off, respecting his privacy, only offering input or words of encouragement and support when Kirk had broached the subject first – an event that only happened once during that time.

"Not my choice, Spock, but his. He and I have already discussed it, and I understand his reasoning behind the request."

"It merely seems a pity. He is a most promising young officer, destined to go far in his career with Starfleet. It is always difficult to lose a crewman of his caliber, whatever the reason."

"Something tells me this isn't the last we've seen of Kevin Riley. I'm sure our paths will cross again someday." A faint smile touched Kirk's lips before he shifted his gaze to his first officer, all business once again. "All right, let's go over the list of new recruits, people transferring aboard, and our own personnel who are making lateral moves, and decide where to assign them."

"Agreed, sir," Spock acknowledged, but not before he slid the carafe of now lukewarm coffee across the table toward his CO. Kirk chuckled inwardly. Yes, finding good help could be challenging at times. His thoughts sobering, he imagined how difficult it would be to fill his first officer's shoes, if and when the time came. _No sense in worrying about that now_ he admonished himself. _We still have over four years on this mission._ Spock was by far the best first officer in the fleet, and he intended to do his utmost to make sure the Vulcan was happy aboard the _Enterprise._ Surreptitiously, his gaze came to rest on Spock. There were just some officers he wouldn't be willing to let go, under any circumstances.


End file.
